


Lines

by KatherineFreebatch



Category: Freebatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mpreg, need a beta, pregnant Benedict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineFreebatch/pseuds/KatherineFreebatch
Summary: “You were right.” He said, anguished and “Will you ever forgive me?”, but also “I miss you so much.”





	Lines

**Author's Note:**

> First flash fic of a long series where Benedict divorces, falls in love with Martin and gets pregnat. Repeatedly.  
> Ps. I really, really need a beta, please help me. Also: kudos are lovely, comments are even better. x

One single line. Everything begun and finished with one single line. 

The line that Martin’s eyes traced along Benedict’s face, elaborate and imprecise; he looked at him, a bit surprised when Benedict fell to his knees in front of him, right there on his doormat and apologised, tears in his eyes. 

“You were right.” He said, anguished and “Will you ever forgive me?”, but also “I miss you so much.”  
Martin’s eyes mapped Ben’s face for a long time, a long line that begun from his slanted verdigris eyes, stopped for a moment, in wonder, over the brown spot in his left iris, skimmed the straight perfection of his nose in favour of getting lost for a second or two over the waves of worried skin that creased his forehead, it then went down, quick and silent, following the path of his tears and then started a bit when those drops disappeared between those heart shaped lips that wouldn’t stop saying “I love you” and “I love you” and always and for ever “I love you.”

Martin grasped him by the forearms, dragged him up and then hold him close to his chest, he kissed away his tears, those tears that felt like they were scalding them both with Ben’s sincerity and repentance and Martin’s regret and anguish.

His hands, then, traced a light line up Benedict’s back, his fingers stumbling over the hills and valleys of his verbetraes and then get caught in his barely-there auburn curls, nest of his clean and almost innocent smell. 

“I forgive you.” whispered Martin “But only if you’ll forgive me for not pestering you when I could have still saved you from all of this mess.”  
Benedict started, sighed and nodded, the tip of his nose traced a line of forgiveness and relief on Martin’s check. 

The next line, perhaps the most pleasing one, was traced by Martin’s tongue over Benedict’s closed lips and then over his teeth just to die, not without some regrets, over Ben’s palate. There it stayed, uncertain, and then withdrew just to come back and then withdrew again, slowly, with care, light brushes of love and desire. Back and forth. Back and forth. That line, then, got interrupted by a smack of lips and the buttons of Ben’s shirt tinkling on the floor. Actually, to be honest, it didn’t get interrupted, it just evolved, slowly and hesitantly in a finger, then two and finally three buried deep into Benedict’s centre and then evolved again into a line more solid and warmer and slick that kept invading Benedict, making him sigh. And gasp. And twist his fingers into his hair and pull, hard, and cry out and arch in ecstasy. And then, that line split and changed: inside Ben it became soft, yielding and gave birth to little white pearls of love and sweat, life and terror; inside his tummy it became an ellipsis as if to say “Hope saved us” and “We were meant to be” but also “The best is yet to come.”

Then, tired and panting, Benedict and Martin themselves became two languid lines, intertwined between the warm folds of the sheets, sweaty, content and most importantly ignorant. Because they didn’t know. They did not know that in two months time that line that started from Martin eyes roaming over Benedict’s face would become two lines on a stick that they would keep forever, two pink lines, a symbol of love, two lines that announced them the greatest joy of all, that told them that there was a baby on the way and that they too, in time, would come to understand that that line just was the happiness that would forever change their life.


End file.
